The Rocker That Slays Me
by kyxlal
Summary: Clary Morgenstern will forever be known as ultimate rock sensation, Valentine Morgenstern's daughter, the rock star who killed himself when she was just a child. This heartbreak haunts her and her hatred for the rock star world of drugs and fame is not what she wants to be apart of. However, when an old friend and new rock sensation comes back into her life, will there be a spark?
1. Chapter 1

**ONE**

 _Clary, eight-years-old_

* * *

Mama was crying. Her sobs were audible from my bedroom where I sat on the floor, shivering with my knees tucked to my chest. Only fifteen minutes ago, we were both finishing lunch when the phone rang. Mama had answered, her face roiling and fading to a unhealthy paleness as the receiver spoke through the line. Just seconds had passed till Mama collapsed in a heap on the floor, a statue with agony etched on her face. The phone had ended up on the tiled floor beside her, the receiver's words a muffled sound. In a flurry of panic and tears I'd snatched the phone up, checking for the caller ID. It read _Stephen._

"U-Uncle Stephen," I fumbled over my words as I watched my mother break before me.

"Clary? Clary, sweetheart, where's your Mama? Clare, where is she?" Uncle Stephen's voice was breathless and urgent as he shouted down the line. His outburst did not help my tears.

"Uncle Stephen, Mama's on the floor. I-I can't get her up," I wept, pulling on Mama's arm but to no avail. It was useless.

"Uncle Stephen, I'm scared. What's going on?"

I felt deflated as I sobbed on my knees in front of my Mama who still had not moved from her own bent frame, the only evidence of consciousness coming from the tears that now slid down her cheeks.

"Clary, sweet girl, I need you to be brave for me okay? No more cryin'. I'm gonna be there as fast as I can."

I sniffled, "Okay. Where's Daddy, though? Is he with you too?" My question brought a choking sound from Uncle Stephen down the line, which made my gut clench.

Something was wrong.

"I'll be there soon, sweetheart." And he hung up.

Now, I sat in my room as Uncle Stephen, Uncle Rob and Uncle Michael consoled my Mama. As soon as they'd charged through the front door, I was sent to my room, claiming they'd come and get me in a minute. That was an hour ago.

And through that period my chest had grown tight and my lungs felt like they were going to cave.

Daddy was gone.

Dead.

I couldn't make out a majority of the conversation, but from Uncle Stephen's strained voice I could make out: "found", "not breathing", "bathroom", "bottle-of-jack", "coke", and "I'm sorry". Words an eight-year-old should never perceive.

Uncle Stephen had apparently found Daddy in the bathtub of the rental apartment they had been using in New York for the past 4 months, as they were recording there next album in their studio in Manhattan. Daddy would come home after raps, but sometimes if he'd be at the studio late, he'd stay at the apartment with my Uncles.

Daddy.

I heaved in gulps of breath as tears forced themselves out of my eyes. This couldn't be happening. Daddy was only here this morning, cooking me pancakes for breakfast so Mama could sleep in a few more hours. Like always, Daddy would let me help him make the batter and we would dance to silly pop songs on the radio as our breakfast fried.

And now he was gone. Just like that. Without a goodbye. Just a kiss from this morning as he left for work.

"NO. NO, NO, NO!" I screamed hysterically, throwing my quilt and pillows off the bed, shoving my stationary and odd ends off my desk and banging and slamming myself into the walls. He couldn't be gone.

Daddy wouldn't leave me. He couldn't.

I kept punching my little fists into the wall, slices of pain coursing through my knuckles. I could feel blood seeping into the paint.

But I didn't care.

Daddy would've of swept me into the bathroom, cleaning my wounds and applying my favorite Disney character plasters, kissing the boo boos better.

But not today. Not forever.

Without notice, I felt a pair of strong arms wrap around my body, trying to keep me locked in place as I thrashed in stupor.

"CLARY! CLARY, CALM DOWN NOW! YOU'RE GONNA HURT YOURSELF!" Uncle Stephen's words were distant, as if they were being shouted a mile away. In my blurred vision, I become aware of Uncle Stephen dragging me towards the bathroom, my other Uncles and Mama right behind us, their cries and heavy footsteps barely audible. Cradling me, he places the both of us in the bathtub with me still enveloped within his arms, and I suddenly feel a freezing spray catapulting down my face and bare legs. I heave myself up abruptly, my body completely still but my mouth drawing in cups of breath.

"It's 'kay now, sweetheart. Calm down." Uncle Stephen's voice is a soft murmur, which somehow stops the pulsing in my ears.

In my hazy vision, I see Mama being held up by Uncle Rob and Uncle Michael as she wept, the sobs spurting out of her mouth, wracking her body.

Daddy would of kissed her tears away.

"Guys, get Jocelyn out of here. Take her to the porch, get some fresh air," Uncle Stephen instructed, still supporting me in his arms. With ease, my Uncles shuffled Mama out of the bathroom, soothing mutters coming from both of them in sync.

As soon as they were out of sight Uncle Stephen stood up, keeping me locked in place against his chest.

"Let's get you dry, sweetheart,"

We returned to my room, and Uncle Stephen placed me back on unsteady legs, now shuddering from my wet clothes clinging to my skin. Uncle Stephen swiftly made my bed, picking up the mess of pens and pencils up from the floor and setting them back in their rightful place on my desk.

"What pj's do ya want, huh? How about your Cinderella ones?" Uncle Stephen shifted through my drawers and turned his head for my answer.

I didn't care.

In defeat at my silence, Stephen picked up a pair of pajama bottoms and shirt. The lollipop design would of had me beaming with delight, but my face seemed to be glued in place; couldn't make any exterior emotion.

In fluid motions, Uncle Stephen manages to get rid of my wet clothes, replacing them with my new dry ones. Planting a kiss to my forehead, I'm carried to my bed and tucked securely under the covers.

"Sweetheart. . ." Frown lines between Stephen's brows, making him appear older than his twenty-seven-years. "Clary, do you understand what happened today? Do you understand why-" Stephen's throat constricts, his eyes altering to a misty hue, "Do you know why Daddy isn't here?"

Time seems to mature, but it feels as though I'm stuck here- in a period which brings excruciating pain but I cannot leave. My own personal hell.

"Yes," My eyes stare blankly at the ceiling, "Daddy left me."

* * *

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	2. Chapter 2

**TWO**

 _Clary, Present_

* * *

 _"And in recent industry news, today marks the death anniversary of international rock sensation, Valentine Morgenstern, former lead guitarist of 90s rock band, Hells Angels. Its been eleven years since-"_

Instantly like a reflex, I cursed and turned the TV off, staring blankly at the black screen.

 _Every fucking year._

I inhaled and exhaled heavily for several moments until my heart rested to its natural rhythm. Every damn year I am reminded of him, and every year it feels more painful than the last.

 _I miss him so much._

I cursed at myself; I can't afford to be like this today. Of all days, today had to be the night of the Art Show.

 _You can cry later, Clary. Later._

I huffed out a strangled breath and collected my composure, walking back into the kitchen. Simon would be here any minute to drive us both to _Jade Wolf,_ our favorite oriental Chinese restaurant across Manhattan. Like the most amazing best friend he was, I knew Simon planned this afternoon for my sake, knowing today, that despite my cheery attitude, I was nothing more than mourning internally. I thought my poise was believable on my face on days like these where I was anything but, however Simon was a mind reader when it came to me evidently.

I stashed my purse and keys into my messenger bag when my cell rang.

 _Simon._

I smiled. "Hey, you."

"Hey, sweet cheeks," Simon's greeting warmed me. "I'm outside."

"Okie dokie, just coming." I checked I had all my possessions then headed for the front door, locking it behind me.

"Hey, sweet thang." Simon's cheeky grin is the first thing I see as I take my seat in his car.

I feigned a pout.

"I hope Izzy doesn't allow your ridiculous pet names."

"Of course she does- she loves it when I call her my 'pumpkin pie'" Simon changed gears as he drove down the street. His brown curls swept across his forehead, nearly flopping over his thick rimmed glasses. His signature dimple on full display as he grinned.

"Yeah, mhm, okay." We laughed in unison; we knew for a fact Isabelle Lightwood would _never_ let anybody call her by 'pumpkin pie'.

"How is she? Izzy I mean?" I ask, staring out the passenger window as we drove passed bustling Manhattan back streets.

"She's good. Stressed out, I guess. She's in full wedding planning mode." Simon chuckled. Simon and Isabelle had dated ever since Si got the nerve to admit his undying love for her junior year of high school. That was five years ago, and just two months ago, Simon had proposed.

I was ecstatic. My two best friends getting their forever. I think I was more excited then they were.

"Mr and Mrs Lewis," I tested the name out and smiled. Those two were perfect.

"Oh, stop it you." Simon waved a hand in the air in mock embarrassment, making me chuckle.

We arrived at _Jade Wolf_ only fifteen minutes later, taking a booth at the far side of the restaurant. As soon as we sat down our order was taken, choosing a mushroom chow mien for myself and diet coke. Simon practically ordered a buffet for himself, which honestly I wasn't very surprised about- that guy could eat until he blew up.

He grabbed a pair of chopsticks from our utensil pot, jamming out a beat on the table.

"Are you excited for tonight? Your mom told me last week that the tickets were all sold out."

"Yeah, I am." I beamed; I was really looking forward to tonight. Brooklyn Art Studio, which my mum co-owned with her best friend Jia, was hosting over 10 of my art pieces at their show- some of my old and recent work.

"I'm so stoked, Clare bear. Your-" Simon cut off mid sentence, and my gut clenched sensing what he was going to say next.

He ever so softly finished, "Your dad would of been so proud of you, Clary."

Despite the pain spreading through my chest, I smiled truthfully, and Simon grabbed both of my hands in his, rubbing my knuckles.

"Thanks, Si. I hope he'd be happy too."

We conversed until our food came, talking about everything and anything, the wedding plans, Simon's new company excelling in recent sales, and my mother's love life to my distaste.

"She goes on dates," I take a sip of my coke, "But there's always something she doesn't like about the guy. And its ridiculous things, like 'Oh, his nose was slanted a little to the slide,' or 'Oh, he was wearing a mustard sweater," I huffed out.

"Not gonna lie, I wouldn't wanna be with someone who wore mustard either, to be quite honest." Simon crunched on a prawn cracker and attempted not to smirk.

 _Idiot_.

"Okay, Mr funny man." I rolled my eyes.

"Oh, Clare bare, you know me."

We bantered for another hour back and fourth over our meal, until Simon asked for the bill.

 _" And in recent industry news, today marks the death anniversary of international rock sensation, Valentine Morgenstern-"_ The restaurant's TV blared.

My stomach ran cold, and my mouth became suddenly dry. _Please no._

I promised myself that today wouldn't be affected by him, that it would be normal like any other. But somehow his name and face kept popping up everywhere, reminding me of something I wanted to forget.

"Clary? Clary? Clary, are you okay?" I can hear Simon's voice, but its lossed in the surroundings I'm not aware of at this moment. The only thing I can feel is my hands clenching until my nails bit into my palms, and my heart pounding in my ears.

 _Daddy left me._

My eyes slammed shut as I tried to wipe the memory away, but it was too late. It was like I was there again, all those eleven years ago, crying endlessly as Uncle Stephen held me.

When I felt a hand touch my arm, I stiffened violently and thew myself out of the booth, heading straight for the exit.

The crisp air and light drizzle hit me as I pelted down the street, my chest heaving, with no tears. Not yet.

I saw a side alley come into close view, welcoming me an isolated escape, when abruptly I felt someone clench onto my hand pulling me straight into a hard chest.

 _Simon._

Without second thought, I kicked and shoved out of his arms, feeling a wetness dampening my cheeks. I had to leave. I had to run. I had to go away.

My breathing became more rough as I struggled and suddenly, I'm twisted around to face Simon.

Except it wasn't.

Definitely not my Simon.

Definitely. Not.

His golden eyes pierced my green ones, his eyebrows drawn into a angry frown which frightened me for a second.

"Stop squirming, Red. You'll hurt yourself, just stop." The stranger's voice is rough, and strangely, it calms me a fraction.

 _Who are you?_

It takes me a moment to realize that I had stopped kicking and that I was engulfed in the guy's muscular arms, shaking.

He smells so sweet. _Like sunshine._

"It's okay, Red. I'm here. It's okay." The touch of a large though soft hand ran through my hair, and the caress made me feel recognition.

 _I know you._

* * *

 ** _I hope you enjoyed the second chapter. A little short, I know, but in the future they will be much more jam packed. Please LIKE and REVIEW. It means the world. Thank you all for reading :)_**

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	3. Chapter 3

**THREE**

 _Clary, Present_

* * *

 _I know you._

Now as I contemplated about it, how I didn't recognize that face only moments ago when I believed he was a stranger, baffled me. I would never mistaken those eyes: the most pure, yet unnatural, gold iris'. My mouth went slack as my own eyes traveled over his face.

He hadn't changed at all, in those eleven years I hadn't seen him. It seemed he had grown more handsome as the years went by.

A soft but rough chuckle, jerked me out of my trance, and suddenly, my mind seemed to set back into reality.

I took a hesitant step back, "Jace?" I breathed.

Creases formed in his cheeks as he smiled, and I couldn't breathe.

 _Beautiful._

"So you reognise me? I thought by your reaction just now you had no clue who I was." He planted an awkward hand to his neck and rubbed.

"I- well," I stared, "How could I forget? Its been what? El-"

"Eleven years." Jace replied, and it was in that moment I was fascinated by his voice; no longer the high sound I remember before puberty, but husky and deep.

And extremely sexy.

"Its good to see you, Clary." Jace pulled down the ball cap which sat on top of his head. His eyes were piercing and reserved as he gazed around behind me and aside, like he was looking for someone. _Or hiding._

"I'm sorry, I should get going. It was," He looked me up and down in one swipe, "Nice seeing you."

And he walked away. Just like that. Leaving my mind a jumbled mess.

 _Clary, eight-years-old_

I buried daddy today.

The service had been an hour and a half, with over a hundred guests cooped in the church. It felt so much shorter than the ninety minutes, which Mama had cried throughout. I stood next to her the entire service, holding her hand in mine as she wept, standing composed without a tear shed.

Uncle Stephen had told me the night before, as he tucked me into bed, about how tomorrow was going to be.

"A funeral is where we're going to let your daddy go to heaven, Clare. He's going to be with the angels now. And it's going to be sad. So you have to promise me that you're going to be a big girl, okay? Because you're so strong, darlin'?"

I had nodded, and cried myself to sleep when he left my bedroom.

When the church service had ended, and all three of my uncles took Mama to the car as the guests left, I had sat in front of daddy's grave to say my goodbyes.

"I'm not angry, daddy," I picked at the grass underneath my crossed legs, "I forgive you. Uncle Stephen said you're with the angels now, which means you're happy now, I guess. And you're not in pain- that's what I over heard mama say." From the distance I heard my name being called, and got to my knees, pressing my fingers to my mouth laying a kiss there, and pressing it onto daddy's plaque.

"I miss you, daddy. See you soon."

It was hours later, as I now sat on the tire swing on the back fields of Uncle Stephen's residence. All of the guests had huddled here for drinks and food for the reception, and with there being no children here like me, I felt out of place.

I'd tottered over to Mama, who stood with a wine glass in her hands staring in the distance blankly. I'd pulled lightly on her dress, "Mama, I'm going to go outside on the swing, is that okay?" She'd heard me, obviously, as she turned her head downwards to look at me, but her eyes said otherwise. They'd looked empty, as if she hadn't registered what I'd actually said, but knew I had spoken.

"You run along, darlin'" Uncle Stephen had smiled, running a gentle hand over my head.

I looked at the sky as I swung back and forth quietly, my head resting on the rope. The sun had started to set, and my youthful eyes were fascinated by the mixture of pink and orange clouds.

 _So pretty_.

"Clare bear?" I faltered a little on the swing as the voice startled me.

I twisted my head to look behind me, "Jacie?" I whispered.

"Right here, Clare bear." He popped up in front of me and smoothly rocked the swing back and forth.

Jace was my best friend, aside from Simon and Izzy. His daddy was Uncle Stephen, and we'd grown up together on the road when the band would tour the states.

"You okay, Clare bear?" I loved Jacie's eyes. They were furrowed now, and he looked sad.

"Yes, I'm okay. Are you?"

He gave me a sweet smile, "Yeah, I'm okay. I was just worried cause' I thought you were sad," Jace looked to the ground, "Dad told me you were up here."

"That's good, I missed you since you went back to Dallas."

Jace's mama and uncle Stephen weren't together like my mama and daddy were. And really, the many times I'd here uncle Stephen talk about Jace's mama, he'd use very bad words.

Jace really lived with his mama in Texas, and the only times I got to see him was during summer and winter break when he'd stay with uncle Stephen.

"Let's go and explore." Jace grabbed my hands and helped me out of the tire.

"But I told mama and uncle Stephen I'd be on the swing. What if they come to check on me?"

"Don't worry, we won't be that long. We're only gonna play in the fields over there." Jace pointed to the long grass fields on the land behind Stephen's house.

"Come on, Clary," He pouted, grabbing both my hands in his, "Please."

I rolled my eyes, "Okay, okay, come on then."

Hand in hand we trudged through the long grass and weeds, the sun still a copper cinder in the dulling pink sky.

"COME ON." Jace grinned and ran forward through the turf, and was hidden within seconds by the shrubs.

My little legs were nothing compared to Jace when he ran. "Jace?!" I called.

The weeds and grass was like a jungle, and at this point I couldn't remember which direction Jace had gone.

"Jace?" I cried, my heart now hammering in my ears. This was scary. Where was he?

"Jace? Jace come on now, I don't wanna play this game anymore. Come here."

There was a rustle and Jace appeared from one of the bushes, and rushed towards me, "I'm sorry, Clare bear. I didn't mean to scare you." Jace pulled me into one of our special hugs- where we'd hold each other tight as possible, snuggling.

 _He smelt so sweet. Like sunshine._

An hour or so went by, and we spent the time watching the sun settle down, and the stars come up. Jace loved astronomy, and he loved showing me star constellations as we gazed up at the night sky. I remember last summer when uncle Stephen and mama took us to the science museum in Brooklyn. There was a whole exhibition on astronomy, and star gazing. Ever since Jace had been obsessed.

"CLARY?! JACE?!"

Both of our little head's shot up at our names being called. Uncle Michael?

We ran back to the tire swing where Uncle Michael was pacing looking around the yard.

"There you two are," He sprinted and brought us into his arms, "Where have you two been? Me and Stephen have been looking all over for you."

"Sorry uncle Michael. Its my fault, I wanted to show Clary the stars." Jace frowned.

Michael sighed but grinned, "It's okay, bud. You looked after her and you're both safe. That's all that matters." He whistled to us to indicate to follow him back down to the reception. But as we neared I could hear crude screaming coming from inside.

Mama?

"Shit." I heard Michael mumble from under his breath. "You two stay here, okay? I'll be right back."

We both nodded.

I scanned the patio and it seemed that most of the guests had left, only a few lounging next to the pool and outside bar. Me, Jace and several guests paused as the screaming started again, and I realized I was right- it was Mama. I scampered to the back door and went inside.

"Clary, no. We have to stay." I heard Jace behind me.

"YOU BITCH! THIS YOUR FAULT! HOW DARE YOU FUCKING COME HERE!" Mama is hysterical, tears running down her cheeks as Uncle Rob and I notice Luke, hold mama back.

I hear Jace gasp behind me and its then I realize Celine is standing in the living room, and is the one mama is shouting at.

"Mama?" Jace asks, walking towards her.

"Baby," Celine chokes taking her son's hand, "I'm taking you home. Now. We're done here."

"ITS YOUR FUCKING FAULT, YOU BITCH! IT'S YOUR FAULT HE'S DEAD."

My eyes bulge at mama's language. I've never heard mama speak like that before. What was she talking about? What was Celine's fault?

"GET THE FUCK OUTTA HERE!" Uncle Stephen heaved slamming the front door open.

Even from where I stood, I could see the tears running down the side of Celine's nose, and how frightened Jace looked as he surveyed the situation.

My little legs moved across the room as Celine dragged Jace out the front door.

"No! Jace, wait!" I cried, but it was no use as I'm swept up and taken away, from the front door. From Jace.

 _Please don't go._

* * *

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 _ **Please LIKE and REVIEW, it means the world. Until next time :)**_

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